


we deserve a soft epilogue, my love

by iamalystark



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Natasha Romanov Feels, Natasha Romanov Is Not A Robot, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Burn, Tony Stark Feels, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Has Daddy Issues, Tony Stark Has Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-26
Updated: 2020-04-26
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:54:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23851888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iamalystark/pseuds/iamalystark
Summary: "Love. . ." She trailed off, brows furrowed, "Love isn't always enough to make someone stay, Tony."His eyes met hers, the green shining from the weak streetlights nearby, and he wondered when that had become his favorite color."It can be." He argued, because he knew his parents loved each other, and that was enough for them. He didn't know why, but they did."But, not always." She replied pointedly, looking between him and her. He knew where she was coming from.They'd gotten closer, he didn't know how, but he could feel her leg brush against his under the water.They both locked eyes for a moment, and Tony found himself gravitating closer. "It can be." He murmured yet again, his fingers brushing delicately against her bare side, his eyes flickering from her eyes to her lips."It can be." Natasha finally agreed, looking at him just as intensely as he stared at her.(Or, the arranged marriage au nobody asked for)
Relationships: Natasha Romanov/Tony Stark
Comments: 14
Kudos: 110





	we deserve a soft epilogue, my love

**Author's Note:**

> this is the longest oneshot ive ever made i think lmao and ive been working on it for a while, a few weeks at least. comment and leave kudos pretty please?

"I won't do it, Dad. I don't even know her!" The young man hissed lowly, his arms crossed over his chest as he glared up at the man.

Even before he raised his hand, Tony knew his father was going to hit him, flinching back as the hand collided with his cheek.

"It does not matter if you know her. Her father is one of the most respectable people in our line of business. You know that." Howard snapped, eyes sharp and filled with malice.

"I won't marry someone I don't love!" He cried.

"You will marry her, Anthony, or you will never marry _anyone_." He said lowly, and Tony immediately knew the implications behind the threat, swallowing as he shook lightly.

"I won't." He whispered, voice trembling. Though, he knew it was useless.

Howard gave him an unimpressed look, then turned and stalked from the room, slamming the door closed behind him.

Tony flinched, breathing a sigh of anxiousness, his father leaving the room doing nothing to relieve his stress.

He wouldn't marry the woman. Hell, he didn't even know her name. Something with an N, maybe

He began pacing, his expensive suit wrinkling as he ran his fingers through his hair, ruining the previously styled strands.

His breaths began to pick up, and Tony felt the panic attack before it happened, tugging at his collar with a loud pant, feeling it tear against his harsh pull.

He didn't care, ripping his tie off and tossing it across the room, gasping for breath and repeatedly clenching and unclenching his fists.

Tony had a good life. He had a sort-of loving mother, a Butler that posed as a father figure, and enough money that he could live hundreds of people's lives.

But he wasn't happy, couldn't be when the impending wedding to some Russian snob was days away.

He couldn't marry her. He couldn't. And it was in that moment that he realized, he wouldn't, no matter what happened.

He'd get out of that wedding. Whatever it took.

* * *

  
Tony made sure his door was locked multiple times before he even attempted to try to proceed with his plan, eyes dancing toward the clearly locked door every few moments, before drifting back to the window.

He hadn't pressed his bed up against the door like some chick-flick where a teenage girl ran away because her parents took her allowance down to only fifty bucks or something.

Besides, anything in this hotel room of his could be moved with enough effort, and he wouldn't need long to climb out the second story window.

He already had the entire thing planned out. Escape first, clearly. "Borrow" a car, and figure it out from there.

It wasn't much of a plan, but it was something. Swallowing, the man eyed his phone, which lay on the nightstand. Howard could track it, which meant there was no way he was taking it with him.

Finally, after running his hands through his hair so much it looked like he had bed head, Tony slid the window open, slipping his legs through to balance on the ledge, and after quite a bit of flexibility, he managed to get completely outside of it, grabbing onto the outer edges so as not to fall.

Slowly and carefully, he slid the window closed, and lowered himself down, scuffing his shoes as they scraped against the wall, looking for purchase.

"Fuck," he muttered, not finding any. He'd have to drop.

Turning his head so he didn't scrape his face against the brick, Tony loosened his fingers, preparing to jump, when he saw something that made him fall before he was ready.

An agile-looking redhead was doing the exact same thing as him three windows down.

Tony landed on his back, the air getting knocked from him as he grunted in pain. The redhead landed on her feet in a crouch, eyes wide as she saw him.

"I won't tell if you won't." He offered, wheezing as he stood.

There was a slight look of panic on her face before she smoothed out her features. "Deal." Her voice was completely flat, not displaying any of the previous nervousness Tony thought he saw.

He brushed off as much dirt as he could from the suit, but he knew it was a lost cause, and sighed, pulling off the jacket and tossing it into the underbrush.

"Who are you?" The woman questioned, shifting from foot to foot.

He sighed. "Tony." And then he watched her face change. He couldn't tell what emotion she was feeling, but it was something.

And suddenly he became suspicious. "Who are you?"

"Natasha." She answered, her voice clipped. And Tony felt exactly what the woman, Natasha, was feeling.

Surprise, horror, shock, and a mix of many more emotions he couldn't even decipher. This was the woman he was supposed to marry.

" _Oh_." He breathed, rubbing the back of his neck.

She didn't say anything else, watching him warily. "It's not you, by the way." Tony commented awkwardly.

Her brow raised questioningly. "It's not your fault I'm, uh, leaving. I just don't exactly know you, and didn't feel like marrying someone I don't know. And it'll stick it to my asshole father." He amended, clearing his throat.

"It is you. For me. I'm not marrying anyone, let alone Tony Stark. Even for my father." Natasha said bluntly, and Tony felt a pang of hurt, but didn't show it.

He scoffed, snapping, "Whatever. See you never." And he turned sharply on his heel, stalking out into the parking lot with quite a few not so cheap cars, and chose the one farthest from his, striding toward it. Looking around and not seeing anyone, he opened the door and slid in.

Rich people were too trusting. With a small grunt, he pulled the panel off and searched for the two red wires, using his nails to strip them.

After he found the brown wire, he was about to strip that one too, when the passenger side door opened, causing him to jolt in shock.

Tony looked up, locking eyes with the emerald green irises that belonged to his would-be wife.

"What are you doing here?" He hissed, dropping the wires. She shrugged.

"I need a ride, don't I? I can't as well just walk down the road." Natasha answered simply, shifting to face him.

"There's a whole choice of cars for you to steal. Pick one of those." Tony sniped angrily, glancing back toward the darkened building.

"This one looks the nicest." She replied with a neutral face, and he could tell he wouldn't be getting her to leave.

He could just drop her off somewhere and ditch her later. Sighing, he said, "Whatever. Just be quiet."

Then, he went back to the wires. "Do you even know what you're doing?" She asked, her voice accusing.

Tony gave her a flat look as the car revved to life. He winced, glancing back at the building, paranoid.

He watched for a solid ten seconds, and when no light turned on, he sat up correctly in the seat and closed his door.

Without warning, he jerked the car out of park and sped out of the lot and down the road, slightly disappointed when he saw her completely unfazed face out of his peripheral vision.

"So, where are we going?" The woman asked, somehow chewing gum. Where had she even gotten gum?

"You? I don't know. I'm going somewhere that I can't tell you." He said venomously. In reality, he didn't know where he was going either.

"You have the attitude of a three year old." She snapped, her patience seeming to wear thin.

"Oh _please_ , I was much better behaved as a whiny little brat." Tony replied, rolling his eyes as he gazed lazily at the road.

If his father was going to catch him in the act, he would have already. "Yeah? It was probably because you couldn't speak yet." Natasha shot back.

Tony felt a grin tug at his lips but didn't show it. He loved that he was already irritating her. It just came to show how much a wedding between the two would've been disastrous.

Knowing that if he hadn't gotten the nerve to run away like an angsty kid, he would've had to be with this bratty woman, made him glad he had.

"I could speak. In fact, I spoke so much, everyone just wanted me to shut up." The billionaire commented with a sly smirk.

"I can understand the appeal." Natasha deadpanned.

Oh boy, did he love this game. Maybe he'd keep her around for a bit, just to make her mad. She'd run off on her own soon enough anyway.

* * *

After about another two hours of Tony bickering with the woman just because he could, he finally began to run out of creative things to say, and light was beginning to bleed into the sky, Natasha yawning every few minutes.

He'd had years of experience staying up for days on end, so it wasn't bothering him at all, but the way the redhead's eyes kept slipping closed, only to open again a split-second later, showed him that she didn't have a sleeping schedule as disastrous and hectic as his.

It was only after she finally drifted off that he let himself drop his "Tony Stark" facade, sighing heavily.

His shoulders dropped, and he flexed them a bit, adjusting the mirror. The bruise under his eye was finally beginning to show, but that could be covered with sunglasses.

Tony's lips pursed into a grimace as he realized that his glasses were left sitting on the bedside table back in the hotel room. Sighing for what seemed to be the millionth time, he spotted a sign signaling to a gas station three miles away, and he slowed down a bit.

They'd need food at some point, and some gas stations had those racks of glasses right?

As it came into view, he made a split-second decision and pulled up to the gas pump, turning the car off. Glancing to the redhead, he noted that she was still asleep and climbed out of the car.

Quickly stalking inside, he veered toward the ATM and pulled his card from his pocket, (something he'd had the common sense to take with him) extracting $3,000, as much as the machine would allow him to.

Next, he found one of the racks of sunglasses, grimacing at the cheap things and finding the one that looked the cleanest. There were fingerprints all over every single pair. Did people not care that others actually bought these things?

After grabbing a pair, Tony was drawn toward the soda, grabbing himself a Pepsi and after a moment of wondering what she liked, he decided she was probably a Dr. Pepper kind of person and swiped one up.

Then, not even looking at what he was grabbing, he swiped up an entire armful of candy and chips, carrying everything over to the counter and dropping it.

The cashier's mouth dropped open, a baby-faced teenage boy that couldn't be older than fourteen. "Y-You're Tony Stark." He breathed, even as he began ringing things up.

Tony appreciated that the kid was still doing his job while being starstruck. "That I am. And you are?" He said, just to converse.

"P-Peter. Peter Parker." The boy responded, smiling as he bagged up all the snacks.

"Nice to meet you, kid." Tony said, handing the boy a hundred dollar bill.

Peter's eyes widened. "This is _way_ too much, Mr. Sta-"

"Keep the change. For yourself." He waved it off, grabbing the bags, two of them.

For a moment, the billionaire feared he'd done something wrong, as tears shone in the kid's eyes, but then he leaned over and wrapped his arms around the older man in a quick hug.

It was over before Tony could even process what had happened, and by then Peter was blushing. "S-sorry, sir. It'll just really help." He mumbled.

A pang of sadness hit his heart, and he knew that any kid working at a dump like this probably wasn't that well off, money-wise, but he didn't realize how bad it was.

"No problem." He responded, clearing his throat. It was at that moment that Tony heard his name from the small TV by the door.

"- _rk_ _and his_ _fiancée_ _both went missing some time last night, and seeing how there's no hint of struggle, authorities are assuming that they ran away_. . ."

The teen's eyes widened. "Think you can keep a secret for me?"

Peter nodded quickly and Tony shot a grin at the kid before quickly stalking back out to the car and tossing the bags in the back seat, filling the tank as fast as he could.

After using his card for gas, he shoved it back in his pocket and drove off as fast as he possibly could. He knew the second he'd used his card, Howard would already be aware of his movements.

Hearing a soft snore, Tony glanced to Natasha for a moment, seeing her head lolled onto her shoulder and her legs pulled up, making her seem impossibly small. As he took a turn, she slumped a bit, and the man sighed.

Making sure there was no other traffic nearby, he quickly reached over and clasped her seatbelt over her, feeling a little less anxious about it.

It wasn't because he cared about her, or course. He just didn't want to get in a crash and kill her or something.

Knowing that once she woke up, Natasha probably wouldn't let him play music, so he took his chance while she was asleep, turning the radio on quietly and bobbing his head lightly to AC/DC.

* * *

Natasha didn't begin to stir until around noon, groaning softly, her lips pulling up in a grimace that Tony assumed was from her position in the seat.

"Hey, Bedhead, rise and shine." He snarked, glancing over at her as her eyes blinked open. Immediately, a glare formed on her lips, directed at him.

He almost snickered when she ran her hands over her hair, and he struggled to hide a grin.

"What time is it?" She questioned, sitting up and stretching.

Tony raised his brow. "The time is literally right there on the dash." He said exasperatedly, gesturing with his hand.

Her eyes flicked toward it. "You've been awake the entire time?"

"Yeah. Got some food and shit. I got you a Dr. Pepper. Do you like Dr. Pepper? You seem like you'd like Dr. Pepper." He ranted, reaching for the bag behind Natasha's seat, only to stop when she batted his hand away.

"Eyes on the road, idiot." She snapped. He rolled his eyes, but stopped trying to grab it.

Natasha reached for the bag herself, pulling out the Dr. Pepper with narrowed eyes. "Why are you wearing sunglasses right now? It's cloudy." She interrogated, eyes flicking over his face.

Most people might not have, but the redhead noticed how a muscle in his jaw ticked. "It's called a fashion sense, Natasha, you clearly don't know what one is." He responded mockingly.

She raised her brow, looking down at her black pants and shirt. "I wasn't looking to go to a party, Stark. I was going for discreet."

"Yeah, that bright red hair is really discreet. Be honest, do you dye it?" Tony retorted.

Natasha gave him a flat look. No, she did not dye it, but he was deflecting. A man like Stark, he wouldn't give her a straight answer, so she decided to find her answer on her own, reaching over and whipping his glasses off.

Tony flinched back, and Natasha's face flooded with realization. A bruise. So he was being abused then. His father? It was most likely.

"What the fuck?" He yelled, nearly swerving the car.

"Just wanted an answer you weren't going to give me." The woman breathed easily.

The billionaire grumbled something under his breath, before ripping the sunglasses back and shoving them on his face. "Mind your business." He huffed, face contorted in a scowl.

Natasha continued to watch him, Tony could see that out of the corner of his eye, and he tried his best to ignore it.

After a tense few moments, the billionaire finally looked to her again, all of his previous anger seeming to have drained out of him.

"I took out a bit of money from an ATM, so my dad will know where we were. We have to ditch this car somewhere and get somewhere far, fast if we don't want to get caught." He explained wearily.

Tony didn't know when he decided that he wanted her to stick with him. He didn't care about her, though, just didn't want her ratting him out if she got caught.

Natasha only nodded, finally looking away from him and staring out the window.

* * *

The redhead would have laughed at the disgusted look on Tony's face when he was forced to realize that there weren't fancy, expensive cars just ready to steal everywhere.

When they climbed into a dark pick-up truck that had to have been at least five years old, he'd tried to hide the fact that he was making faces.

He'd grabbed all of the bags of food and drinks, putting them on the ground by her feet, and Natasha was forced to either crush the fragile snacks, or pull her legs up and sit, curled up like a ball.

Eventually, she settled into a slightly slumped position with her feet on the dash. She glanced over at him a few times, noting the darkening bruise behind his glasses, and the way he glanced in the mirror every few moments as if expecting someone to be following them.

She suspected he probably had anxiety. Most people with childhood abuse or trauma did. And it was with that realization that she finally understood that the Tony Stark she saw on the news and read about in the papers, wasn't the man beside her.

She supposed she'd been naive, just trying to find an excuse not to be married off to some random person her father had decided.

He was a harsh man, her father, but he loved her. She knew that. He'd loved her, her entire life, and while she loved him too, she wouldn't just up and marry someone for a business opportunity.

She'd been watching him too long, she knew that when his eyes flicked toward her, then he reached over to turn the radio on.

It was some rock channel, and he turned it up louder than most people would like. His eyes were drooping slightly. He was tired, and the music was a way to keep him awake.

Glancing at the time, Natasha noted that it was almost night, and realized he'd been awake for almost two days now.

"Pull over." She sighed, sitting up.

He glanced at her curiously. "Uh, no? We're in the middle of the highway. And why?"

"I don't trust you not to fall asleep and kill us. Let me drive." The woman said with a raised brow.

"You clearly sleep during the night, and I don't trust _you_ not to fall asleep and kill us." He shot right back.

She rolled her eyes, but she knew he was right. "Fine. Find a motel or something and let's get some sleep and take off in the morning."

"I don't think there's any around." He replied, glancing around. She didn't detect any fight in his voice for once, and she looked around as well.

"Looks like there's a town two hours that way," She pointed, "could be a place there."

"I'm assuming that I'll be paying for our rooms?" He snarked, turning down the road.

"You're the one with money." Natasha said unashamedly, then frowned.

"You should stop using your card. Save the money we do have."

"It's less than 3,000. Do we have to live off that forever?" Tony pointed out, rolling his eyes.

"Not everybody wipes their ass with fifty dollar bills, Stark. We can save it. Being on the run everyday because your dad is onto us sounds kind of annoying."

" _Please_ ," he scoffed, "I use hundred dollar bills at least."

It drew an unexpected snort from the woman, who quickly straightened her features, glancing away.

"You know I'm right, Stark."

"Call me Tony and I'll consider it." The man said in a teasing tone.

"Stark." She said flatly, her eyes boring into his, despite the barrier of his sunglasses between them.

He huffed out a breath. "Whatever. We'll have to get more eventually, though."

She nodded, not arguing with that. She knew there was no way $3,000 would last more than a few weeks. Probably less.

"Only get one room. It'll help cut costs." The redhead murmured, going back to staring out the window.

His face soured, and she didn't need to look at him to know that. She sighed. "As much as I'd much rather be separate from you, we need to save as much as possible." She grumbled.

He didn't answer.

* * *

As it turned out, they didn't have a choice in the matter. There was only one motel in the entire crappy, little town, and apparently it was a popular stop, because only one room was available.

Natasha had been the one to go in and pay for the room, because Tony was too recognizable, and they didn't want anyone knowing where they were.

Walking back out to the truck, she rapped her knuckles on the driver's window, waiting for him to roll it down.

"Only one room left. Grab the bags, let's go." She said, tossing one of the two room cards to him.

He caught it gracefully and watched her walk off, before glancing down at the key card in his hand. It said 16, and he could only assume that was the room number.

Leaning down, Tony grabbed the bags of food, and narrowed his eyes at the lack of chocolate. The sneaky woman had to have eaten at least four of the crunch bars.

His eyes suddenly widened, and a pit of guilt formed in his gut as he realized why. They hadn't stopped to eat or get any food anywhere besides the crappy gas station snacks, and she was probably just fucking hungry.

He was so used to going days without actually food because he just didn't feel like it, or bother to, that he'd forgotten Natasha might actually eat food like a normal human.

Clearing his throat, Tony quickly exited the truck, stalking toward room 16 and swiping the key card through the slot.

It opened with a quiet beep and he stepped in, dropping the food by the door and looking around.

His face scrunched up in disgust. The place was small, smaller than his kitchen back home, even. There was a nightstand beside the single bed, a small bathroom, a small TV, and a mini fridge that Tony didn't need to look in to know there was nothing in it.

"Don't just put the food on the ground, dumbass. They could have bugs." Natasha grumbled, stalking over and swiping everything up, shoving it into the small fridge.

Tony'd never had cold potato chips before, but he guessed he'd find out how they tasted soon enough.

He suddenly became alarmed, looking to her. "Bugs? They have _bugs_?"

"They could." She corrected, setting down on the bed. "It's best to just be cautious in run-down places like this."

He imagined bugs running over him in his sleep and almost shuddered, if it weren't for Natasha looking at him.

"Great." He spoke awkwardly, and finally took in the small bed, realizing that they'd both have to sleep there.

He would offer to sleep on the ground or something, but. . . _bugs_.

"Uh, what side do you want?" The brunet inquired, running his hand through his hair.

She peered at him, then at the bed and squinted. "I'll take the right." It took her only a moment to answer, and Tony wondered if it was because that was the side closest to the door.

"Right. Okay." He cleared his throat, slipping his shoes off by the edge of the bed.

She did the same and wandered over to the light switch, flicking it off. The lamp on the bedside table was still on, presumably because of Natasha, and they both climbed into the bed stiffly.

They faced away from each other, and Tony could tell that Natasha was just as tense as him. He'd never actually slept in a bed with someone.

Sure, he'd had a few one night stands, but he'd never stayed in the bed long enough to fall asleep, whether it was his or not.

He just wasn't used to it, or comfortable with it. Once they were both lied down, Tony switched off the lamp and tried to relax.

He knew Natasha wasn't asleep, could still feel the way her entire body was stiff as a board, tension radiating from her.

Once his head was finally on a pillow, only then did he finally realize how tired he was, feeling the exhaustion in his bones.

He'd stayed up for nearly a week before, but right now, it felt like he'd been awake for months, and he let out a tired sigh. Closing his eyes, he tried his best to sleep.

Neither of them bothered to say goodnight.

* * *

Natasha hadn't fallen asleep until she was 100% sure that Tony was, not being used to falling asleep next to anybody she hadn't already known for a while.

When she finally did wake up, it was before him. He was snoring lightly beside her, not having moved from his position facing the wall, and his face was free of the creases and tension that had been there the whole time she'd seen him.

There was something strange about seeing the Tony Stark asleep like a baby beside her, and she decided not to stay and think about him.

Grabbing the wad of cash from the nightstand, she tucked it into her pocket. They'd need clothes, something she'd noted the second she decided she would be running away.

They couldn't wear what they were wearing forever, and they needed something inconspicuous for being on the run.

While she knew her sizes, she didn't know his, and leaned over, peeling back his collar gently and peering at the tag.

After getting his shirt size, she decided to just guess his pants size, and slipped out of the motel quietly, leaving behind the snoring brunet.

* * *

When Tony woke, it was to something landing on the bed beside him, and he shot up with a sharp breath and wide eyes.

Natasha stood at the other side of the bed, her narrowed eyes studying him. "What's this?" He questioned, still slightly groggy from sleep.

She gestured with her hand. "Clothes, obviously."

Tony rolled his eyes. "No shit. Why, though? Thought we were supposed to be saving money."

"We can't be recognized, Stark. Now grab an outfit and go shower." She commanded, and it was then that he noted her hair was damp.

Tony swiped up a T-shirt and pair of jeans, and made his way to the small bathroom without argument.

When he stepped in, his eyes immediately found the mirror, taking in his tired eyes and the bruise on the one eye.

He had stubble growing, and narrowed his eyes. He'd need to shave it soon. His hair was unkempt as well, and Tony finally decided that he looked like a mess.

He sighed, stripping from his button up and his pants, before turning on the shower as hot as it could go, knowing it wouldn't actually be that temperature because Natasha had been in here recently.

He had to make do with the small, half empty bottles of soap, and he took much less time than he normally would, what with the water turning cold in seemingly minutes.

When he finally stepped out of the bathroom, he found Natasha squinting at the TV, which was on some news station, and surprise surprise, it was talking about them.

"- _ver a day since they've been gone, and Howard Stark and Ivan Romanoff have been seen coordinating teams of people to find them."_

The news man kept talking, but Tony didn't pay attention. "Wanna find some food and get out of here?" He suggested.

Natasha looked to him, nodded, and flicked the TV off. When he looked around to grab his stuff, he noticed that the other clothes were gone, besides a dark hoodie, probably in the truck already.

Peering into the fridge, he noted that the food was too. He slipped his shoes on, then pulled the hoodie on, noticing that Natasha had put one on, the hood up already.

"There's a diner a few blocks down." She pointed out as they left the room, and Tony nodded, pulling his own hood on.

After returning the room keys, they walked off down the street, and before they knew it, they were sat in the diner eating.

Tony had ordered a burger with a side of fries and a Coke.

Natasha, though, ordered actual breakfast food, going for banana pancakes and a glass of milk.

The billionaire finished in record time, sitting cross legged to watch her.

"So, do you?" He asked.

Her brows creased as she chewed. Swallowing, she said, "Do I what?"

"Dye it. I asked you yesterday." He clarified.

She rolled her eyes. When Tony didn't get an answer, he sighed and leaned against the wall.

He was used to chattering non-stop, whether it be to his butler, Jarvis, who was more of a father than his real one, or his best friend, Rhodey.

Natasha was a quiet person, and he couldn't imagine her opening up to anyone.

"No." She murmured after a moment, and he looked to her in surprise.

"My grandmother was a redhead. Or, at least that's what my mother used to say." The woman explained, emerald eyes flicking up to meet his, before she continued eating.

"What's she like?" Tony questioned, glad that she was finally speaking.

"Who?"

"Your mom. What's she like?" The billionaire inquired, leaning forward on his elbows.

"She died when I was eight. It was just me and my father for a while." She explained.

"Oh." He suddenly felt bad for bringing it up.

"What about your mom?" Natasha said hesitantly.

Tony was shocked at her sudden openness, unaware that she just wanted to know if his mother was like his father.

"Uh, she's nice, I guess. She taught me to play piano. Used to fix me up when- uh," he stumbled through his words, "when I got hurt, you know, doing kid things."

She raised a brow. "What classified as 'kid things' for the one and only Tony Stark?"

He rolled his eyes. "Oh, you know, swimming in my pool of gold, drinking juice from diamond glasses. The usual." Sarcasm oozed from his words.

Natasha's eyes twinkled with amusement, and she pushed her empty plate to the middle of the table.

"Oh yeah? I thought you had a pool of hundred dollar bills?" She teased.

"God, do you know _anything_ , Natasha? I told you, we use those as toilet paper." Tony insisted exasperatedly.

"My bad, Stark." Her voice was flat, but he could see the gleam of mirth in her eyes.

He breathed out through his nose. "Tony." He grumbled.

"Huh?"

"It's Tony. Not Stark." He said, watching as she placed the money on the table.

"Okay, Tony." She said slowly.

The man immediately felt a sense of accomplishment, smirking as he stood.

"I'll bring the truck up here." He told her, shoving his hands in his pockets.

She nodded to him, remaining seated, and the man began his trek back to the motel.

The brunet found himself smiling lightly, remembering the humor in her eyes. When he first met her, it was a challenge to see anything but annoyance or irritation on her face.

Quickly, he shook that thought away and got in the truck, bringing it back to the diner and waiting for her to get in.

"Where to?" He spoke, realizing that he really didn't know.

"Gas station. Let's get more money, and find another car in another town." She said, and Tony wondered how she knew exactly what to do, but obeyed nonetheless.

* * *

It seemed like they'd been sitting in silence for hours in yet another truck they'd stolen, with the radio off and Tony tapping his fingers lightly against the wheel, when he finally spoke.

"I built things."

She glanced up in confusion.

"Build. Still do. You asked what clarified as kid things. I liked to build and tinker with things. I've always loved science."

Natasha nodded. "History was always my favorite subject. I liked to learn about how things used to be." She contributed, and Tony nodded his head.

He could see where she was coming from. When he was younger, he used to love hearing about the wars and conflicts, but his dad talked so often about how old war buddy that was KIA, that he'd lost interest in the subject, beginning to dread the topic being brought up.

Looking to Natasha for a long moment, Tony wondered when he began to like her presence, and he started wanting to talk to her.

* * *

Two weeks since they'd ran off, and Tony had begun to get used to their routine of stealing cars, living off gas station snacks and diner food, and waking up in shitty motels with Natasha beside him.

He didn't despise being near her anymore. In fact, he was starting to consider her a friend.

They opened up a bit, only a bit, and they talked, if only to get rid of the awkward silence that seemed to accompany them wherever they went.

If Tony was being honest, it was fun, thrilling even to be on the run. While he definitely missed a lot of things, what he had going now was. . . nice.

"What are you daydreaming about?" A voice pulled him out of his thoughts, and the billionaire looked to Natasha, whose eyes had flicked from the road to him for a moment.

"Nothing. Just thinking." They took turns driving, but it was usually him that drove, especially during the night.

She eyed him for a second longer before looking back to the road, tapping her fingers against the wheel.

"What are we going to do?" He murmured, slowly looking to her. She didn't look back at him.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, we can't live like this forever. So when we get tired, or when we want to stop, what are we going to do?" Tony answered, shifting in his seat.

"I don't know." She replied honestly. "I never figured out where to go from the hotel window. I just figured I'd go wherever the road took me."

The brunet was shocked by the truthfulness in her voice. "Me too. I didn't actually ever have a destination in mind." He admitted.

She snorted. " _Net der'mo_."

Tony looked to her in shock. "Did you just speak Russian at me?"

"Technically I was speaking Russian to you."

"No, no, I'm Italian, Tasha, so you just spoke that nonsense _at_ me." He returned.

The redhead made a sound. Tony looked to her curiously. "What? Did I say something?"

"Tasha. My best friend calls me that." She explained.

"O-Oh. Sorry, I-"

"It's fine. Tasha is fine." She interrupted, not looking at him.

Feeling awkward from the tense silence, Tony spoke again. "Since we're talking about nicknames, my Honeybear calls me Tones all the time, which honestly has me thinking about music every time." He conversed, grinning.

"Your Honeybear?" Natasha asked, mirth clear in her voice.

"Yes, of course. My Honeybear, my Platypus, the other half of my heart." He joked dramatically, his arm over his face.

A smile flickered on her lips. "No, really. Who is Honeybear?"

"James Rhodes. Rhodey, my best friend since college. He's in the air force overseas right now." Tony explained, a nostalgic smile on his face.

"Mine's Clint."

"Huh?"

"My best friend," she amended, "his name is Clint. I met him a while ago. I'm an honorary aunt to his kids. He's a total dork, but I love him."

Tony never understood anything like he understood that. Looking to her now, he believed that he was starting to understand Natasha Romanoff.

* * *

They had switched spots around ten at night, once Natasha began to tire, and Tony glanced over at her every few minutes, not tired in the least, despite it being near midnight.

The bruise on his eye was barely there anymore, just a small shadow of yellow on his cheekbone, but he didn't bother to wear his sunglasses with her anymore.

He was pretty sure she knew how he got it anyway, based on the look she'd given him when she first saw it, and the way she seemed to take in everything around her, the way it seemed like she knew everything.

For a moment, he considered brushing her tangler, messy hair from her face, but he quickly brushed the thought away.

Glancing up when he spotted something out of his peripheral vision, Tony smiled widely.

He slowed the car down as quick as he could, turning into the motel lot with a gleeful grin. As he parked, he leaned over to shake her shoulder.

"Natasha, wake up. Wake up, come on." He said urgently.

The redhead shot up immediately, her eyes wide. "What? Huh?" She gasped.

"We're stopping for the night." Tony said joyfully, unbuckling his seatbelt.

"Why?" Natasha questioned, finally realizing there wasn't an emergency or anything important.

"Because, this place has a _pool_! I haven't seen a pool in forever." He exclaimed, pointing.

"Didn't your mansion have a pool?" She asked, exhaustion clear in her voice.

"Well, yeah, but it's been weeks! Come on, let's go swim!" He cried, already climbing out.

Natasha let out a long, deep sigh, but followed him nonetheless. "It's night. There's no way the pool is open." She mumbled, shuffling after him, tired, but definitely aware of her surroundings.

"We're criminals, Tasha, I think we could break into a motel pool." He said flatly, rolling his eyes.

She knew it was true, yeah, but wasn't necessarily looking forward to it. After quickly paying for a room, (neither of them mentioned that there were multiple rooms open) they darted for the pool.

More like Tony ran for the pool, dragging Natasha behind him by the wrist. There was a fence surrounding it, and of course it was locked, but that didn't stop them.

The brunet let go of Natasha to quickly climb over the gate, grunting as his feet impacted with the cement, almost stumbling.

Just like that first night they met, though, the woman landed in a graceful crouch, shooting a smirk at him.

"Yeah, okay. Laugh it up." He groaned, rolling his eyes once again and brushing his hands on his shirt.

Looking down at himself, he shrugged and slipped his shoes off. He stripped from his clothes until all he wore was his boxers, and he glanced at her, suddenly a whole lot more vulnerable with her than he'd ever been.

She wasn't hesitant to strip down to her undergarments, and slipped into the cool water with a shiver. If Tony looked close enough, he could see the goosebumps on her skin.

He watched her slip into the water, and wondered where in the hell she'd learned to move so smoothly and gracefully.

(Ballet, he would learn later.)

The water didn't even make a splash. Tony smirked, though. He could change that. Without warning her, he fell backward into the pool, splashing water at least a foot in every direction.

The redhead spluttered water out of her mouth with a glare, pulling a sopping wet strand of hair from her eyes.

He could only smile at her, wading backwards. Natasha turned and walked through the water, settling on the steps and leaning against the pool wall, the tension seeming to just float away.

She sighed, closing her eyes. "This _is_ nice." The admission fell from her lips quietly, almost in a whisper.

Tony's chocolate brown eyes twinkled with amusement. "If you think this is great, just wait till you see the pool in my backyard. Its way bigger than this, and there's a water warmer. Plus, jacuzzi and hot tub."

She hummed. "I'm going to see your home, huh?"

He faltered. "Well, we're not going to be on the run forever, right? Nobody can live like that for their whole lives." He said as way of explanation.

"Watch me." The Russian shot back.

"I don't know about you, but I can't see some eighty year old woman stealing cars and living in motels." He scoffed out.

"Clearly, you've never met a Russian before." Natasha spoke calmly.

The billionaire sighed. He didn't want to fight her. Slowly, he made his way over to her, seating opposite to her.

She peeled her eyes open, watching him. "You don't have to stay with me, you know. Nothing is keeping you from running back home."

Tony recoiled. "I don't want to go home. You know that. There's nothing for me there but a family that pretends to care. If anything, you're the one who should go back. You love your dad, yeah? And it sounds like he loves you too." He snarked at her, using a tone he hadn't used since their first days together.

"Love. . ." She trailed off, brows furrowed, "Love isn't always enough to make someone stay, Tony."

His eyes met hers, the green shining from the weak streetlights nearby, and he wondered when that had become his favorite color.

"It can be." He argued, because he knew his parents loved each other, and that was enough for them. He didn't know why, but they did.

"But, not always." She replied pointedly, looking between him and her. He knew where she was coming from.

They'd gotten closer, he didn't know how, but he could feel her leg brush against his under the water.

They both locked eyes for a moment, and Tony found himself gravitating closer. "It can be." He murmured yet again, his fingers brushing delicately against her bare side, his eyes flickering from her eyes to her lips.

"It can be." Natasha finally agreed, looking at him just as intensely as he stared at her.

He could feel her breath against his lips and nose, could hear how her breathing was getting shallow, and he almost pressed his lips to hers, almost.

He pulled away as slowly as he'd approached, and his eyes shot to a random spot in the water, feeling an awkward tenseness in the air between them.

"It's late." The redhead said softly.

"And dark. We should probably go to bed." Tony agreed.

Despite having been in the pool for only a few minutes, the pair climbed out and grabbed their clothes from the ground.

Tony threw the articles of clothing over the fence, then climbed over himself, picking them up off the ground and stalking toward the motel room.

He heard Natasha behind him, walking just a bit slower, but he didn't look back. Once inside, he changed into a dry pair of boxers, and pulled on his pants and shirt.

He lied down on the bed as Natasha went to change as well, and flicked off the light that was just in arm's reach by the nightstand.

A few moments later, he felt her slipping into bed beside him without a word.

She was the ghost that haunted his dreams that night, with a sad song and murderous eyes.

* * *

Tony didn't know what happened between them that night, but neither of them mentioned it. Weeks, months later even, and it had yet to be brought up.

But something had changed between them that night, because once he looked at her lips, he couldn't stop looking at them.

He took short and long glances at her, and he could feel her eyes on him at times. There were lingering touches and stares from the both of them, but still, neither acted upon anything.

Tony wasn't sure if he wanted to, wanted her to. She wasn't the Russian snob he thought she'd be when he first heard of their impending wedding, nor was he the arrogant rich boy she thought she'd find. Or at least, not quite.

Neither of them were who the other expected them to be, but still, they'd run away to escape a marriage neither had wanted.

Still didn't want. Right? No, of course. The brunet shook his thoughts away, shoving the fork in his mouth so he didn't have to speak to her.

He caught her watching him from behind her glass as she took a drink of whatever soda she'd ordered, and he met her eyes.

She didn't look away.

" _Oh my god_." A quiet voice gasped from somewhere beside them.

They broke eye contact, turning their heads to see a woman staring straight at them. It wasn't long before the woman's husband was looking too, both of their eyes wider than saucers.

Tony's hand shot up to his mouth, finger pressed against his lips in a shushing gesture, but he knew it was useless.

The woman took out her phone, presumably for a picture, and the pair stood abruptly.

"We gotta go. It'll be all over the internet soon. _Go_." He hissed, knowing just how quick things got around.

Natasha didn't fight him, nodding once and sprinting out of the diner as fast as she could, Tony not far behind.

They climbed into one of their many stolen vehicles and Tony peeled off down the street, quickly making his way into the highway once again.

"You know, we've traveled all around the damn country. Are we ever going to have a real destination in mind?" He interrogated after a tense half hour of silence.

"We could leave the country, you know." Natasha suggested after a few moments of not responding.

The brunet didn't like the way that made him feel, his stomach churning in his gut. "No. There's no way, anyway." He mumbled back.

She didn't suggest it again.

* * *

They didn't stop at another motel until they were out of that state and they'd been driving for over three days, taking turns.

Both of them were exhausted, barely keeping their eyes open, and when Natasha spotted the single, scrappy looking motel on the side of the road, neither of them needed to say anything to know they were stopping.

The redhead parked within seconds, and after paying at the front desk, they didn't bother grabbing their things and collapsed on the bed the moment they got inside.

Despite both feeling tired to their bones, they couldn't fall asleep right away, either of them.

"If you had known me," Tony finally broke the silence, his eyelids heavy, "would you have still left?"

"What?" She breathed, and they turned to face each other.

"If you had known me, like you do now, would you have still ran away? Would you still have tried to escape the wedding?"

It was a question that had been on his mind for a while now.

"I don't know." Natasha said softly, her hand brushing against his. "Maybe. Maybe not."

Tony knew that if he knew her, he wouldn't have been able to decide either. He turned his head from the ceiling, and met her eyes.

She was staring right at him, face contorted in something akin to sadness and determination.

For a moment, neither of them made a sound, not even a breath. Then, Natasha's hand found its way to his face, her thumb brushing over his stubble.

Tony's breath hitched, and he watched her. "We shouldn't." He warned, even as he turned more, his hand finding it's way to her waist.

"Don't care." Was her response, burning desire and honesty clear on her face.

After that, they didn't speak, couldn't speak. His lips were on hers, finally, and hers were on his.

Their hands travelled each other's bodies like they starved for touch, and they both couldn't help but think that running away from their wedding was the best thing that ever happened to them.

Just in that moment, they were happy. They were together, and they were happy.

* * *

When Tony woke up, he didn't need to feel her limbs tangled with his to remember what happened the night before, his chest tightening with emotions he couldn't decipher.

The first words they'd ever exchanged were in his head in seconds, the fiery look she'd given him, the way everything she spoke cut into him like a knife, and he suddenly couldn't breathe.

People did things they regretted in the heat of the moment, and Tony couldn't deal with pretending this hadn't happened. He couldn't look at her again without feeling her lips on his and her skin against his skin.

He couldn't pretend that he wasn't in love with her so much it hurt. Because he did love her. He knew it now, thought he knew it for quite a while.

He loved the way she looked and the way she talked, and he loved the fire in her eyes. He loved the way she fit perfectly in his arms, and swallowing down a shallow breath, Tony knew he couldn't pretend. Wouldn't.

So, carefully, he slipped out from under her, trying to breathe as quiet as he possibly could, swiping up his shoes from the ground and finding his clothes discarded near them.

He put them on, painfully slow, and he meandered toward the door slowly. It was painful, searingly painful, but he had to go.

His hand landed on the doorknob, and he was about to turn it when a voice made him jump in shock.

"Don't you dare. Don't you dare leave me."

He turned, finding her sitting up in bed, wearing nothing but her large T-shirt. Her hair was mussed, and her makeup was smeared, but she was still the most beautiful thing Tony had ever seen.

The hurt in her eyes made him flinch.

"Natasha, I-"

" _No_ , you don't get to just leave." She grounded out, standing up and taking a step closer to him. Her fists were balled into fists, and Tony wasn't sure whether she wanted to kiss him or punch him.

"You never wanted to do this in the first place. I'm just making it easier on both of us." The brunet said helplessly, his gaze falling to the ground. He just didn't want the hurt.

"It's not easier, you don't have to leave." Natasha emphasized, her voice tight.

"We shouldn't do this, really." He stated, his words wobbling.

" _Why_? Why not? It took me a long ass time to realize I even wanted to be with you, and now you're just walking away?" The woman hissed, eyes livid.

"Because I shouldn't love you, Natasha!" Tony shouted. She stilled, shock on her face. "I was doing fine! I was going to leave and we never had to see each other again, but then you insisted on getting in the fucking car with me, and then we both just kept staying together, and you smiled at me like it wouldn't break my fucking _heart_."

He was breathing heavily, his eyes still locked on the ground. Deciding to just end the conversation, to just make her push him away, he said, "I was tired last night, and it's the only reason last night happened."

Her face shifted.

"Excuse you?" When he opened his mouth to respond, she shook her head. "No, fucking, _excuse you_? You being tired was the only reason?"

Both disbelief and uncertainty were in her voice, and she didn't give him a chance to say anything before speaking up again. "Tony Stark, you are in love with me as I am with you and you _goddamn know_ last night was supposed to happen! It was!"

"No, it-" His mouth snapped shut as she interrupted him, tears shining in her eyes.

"It was! Because I have never felt so right about anything in my life! I never expected to fall in love, especially with Tony goddamn Stark, but I did. I did. And now I'm here, I'm with you." Natasha insisted, her voice thick with tears.

"You deserve better, Natasha." He murmured softly, swallowing the lumo in his throat. "You said it yourself, you didn't want to marry anyone, let alone me."

"That was before I knew you, Dumbass! That was before I fell in love with you." The redhead exploded, right in front of him now, chest to chest.

"You're the one who said love isn't always enough to make people stay." Tony whispered brokenly, his eyes hopeless.

"But it can be. It can be. Please. . . just stay." Her voice took a pleading tone, and she grabbed his hand. This was a side that he'd never seen from her.

"I'm not good for you." He knew she would regret this.

" _Shut up_." Natasha hissed, looking absolutely done.

"What?" He asked in disbelief.

"Shut up! Just shut your damn mouth! You are perfect for me! You are witty and sarcastic, you're a total dumbass, you make inappropriate jokes and you laugh at the stupidest things, and you are mine, Tony Stark. You made me fall in love with your stupid face, and you do not get to walk out on me. You don't get to leave me. Not now. You had plenty of chances all this time to leave me in a random motel, I gave you so many chances, but you didn't. You stayed. You always stayed. So stay now."

"We would fight all the time." He argued weakly.

"Wouldn't be you and I if we didn't." She shot back.

"I'd mess up." Tony murmured

"That makes you human."

"I'd be a terrible father, I could never be one."

"Good thing I can't have kids, then, huh?" Her eyes had been shining with tears the whole time, but they finally fell.

"Natasha. . ." His voice broke, and his eyes met hers.

" _Stay_. Stay with me." She begged, hands clasped in his.

"I. . ."

"Stay."

"Okay. Okay. I'll stay." Maybe, just maybe, they'd work. Maybe it would be okay.

And when her lips pressed against his, Tony somehow knew that he wouldn't regret it. He would not regret falling in love with Natasha Romanoff.

Maybe it was unexpected, maybe it was unplanned, but it worked.

Running away from their wedding turned out to be what brought them together.

It got them their soft epilogue.


End file.
